The Wonders of Muggle Magic
by RedStalkingDeath
Summary: Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition, Season 5, Round 7. Chaser 3 for the Montrose Magpies.


**The Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition, Season 5, Round 7 – Muggle Me This**

 **Montrose Magpies**

 **CHASER 3:** **"Write about a witch or wizard attempting to smuggle (one or more) Muggle technology into Hogwarts"**

 **Optional Prompts:**

 **2\. (object) microwave**

 **8\. (dialogue)** **"You say that again and I'll microwave your brain!"**

 **12\. (dialogue) "He tried to sell me a box that talked, so I hexed him!"**

 **Wordcount: 1046**

* * *

 **The Wonders of Muggle Magic**

The whole thing started the day Arthur Weasley told his squadron of redheads about the wonders of Muggle magic, specifically their ways of preserving and heating up their meals, over a splendid breakfast in late July.

In the aftermath of a failed experiment — one that left both twins with singed eyebrows and hair standing on end like one of those mad Muggle scientists — that very same evening, they came to the unanimous, yet completely unrelated, decision that they just had to have one of those wonderful devices their Muggle-loving father had tried to explain to them all in the morning.

"Just imagine the endless possibilities for further development of our products if we could get our hands on one of those things," one of the twins remarked with an excited expression on his freckled face, getting lost in at least a dozen new ideas.

And with that, their plan was put into motion.

One of the twins went to Mundungus Fletcher's second-hand shop — or "the pile of scrap", as the few people privileged enough to know of it called the place — to find a microwave. The location of the shop moved around every other week, so the paranoid — and rightly so — proprietor could outrun the many angry customers that had fallen victim to his shady deals over the years he'd been in the business. But the twins always kept updated on where to find the guy. They had a long-standing agreement where they came to him first for any objects that were difficult to acquire legally, and were considered among his, if not best, then at least most loyal customers.

Poor — in whatever definition people chose to interpret the word — Dung did not know what a 'macaron weaver' was, but by the description the young redhead — the guy had given up on figuring out which one of the twins it was as soon as he walked in the door – gave of a 'big, black box, about the size of a briefcase, with some kind of window on one side', he'd concluded that the boy was most likely referring to the big, black box, about the specified size, with a grayish window at the front that had been with him for years. No one seemed to be interested in buying the thing, for some reason, and he wanted nothing more than to be rid of it. It would start talking and showing him moving pictures at random times, often while he was taking a well-deserved and much-needed nap. It had frightened him half to death more than once when he had already stayed longer in the same place than he was comfortable with.

Unfortunately, the Weasley twin wasn't any more fond of the piece of rubbish than he was.

"He tried to sell me a box that talked, so I hexed him!" Fred told his counterpart in his defence when they met up afterwards.

After an eventful excursion into Muggle London — riddled with misunderstandings and a few near-disastrous incidents that could easily have led to an uncomfortable inquiry by the Ministry of Magic for a breach in the International Statute of Wizarding Secrecy — the Weasley twins were officially in possession of both a microwave and a refrigerator.

Trying to sneak the heavy machines up the stairs from the Gryffindor Common Room to the boys' dormitories at Hogwarts was easier said than done. Unfortunately, the electronics in the Muggle devices didn't react well to either Levitation Charms or any type of spell designed to make it easier to carry. As they were only two people, and had two machines between them, they each had a device to struggle with. Figuring out who should take which device was settled over a game of Exploding Snap, which led to more singed eyebrows and almost turned into a brawl. In the end, George was forced to yield to his victorious brother and agree to take on the refrigerator. He was at least ninety percent sure that his partner in crime had found some way of cheating at the game without telling him about it. To be honest, he couldn't quite decide whether to be offended at not being let in on the secret or proud and delighted at what they could potentially get away with at Hogwarts if his closest brother had sharpened his skills to the point where he managed the incredible feat of keeping something from _him_.

He didn't have long to ponder the issue, however. Just as they were about to reach their dormitory, a tiny boy — a first-year, most likely, as neither of them could recall having seen him around before — stepped out of one of the other doors. His eyes widened until they were the size of saucers as he watched them struggle with their unusual cargo.

"I — what?"

"What are you doing out of bed at this hour?" George demanded. Over the years, they had learned that the best defence was a good offence. Get in quickly, and they were usually able to confuse the other person so much that they forgot that _they_ were the ones in the wrong.

"I left my Transfiguration essay downstairs," he stammered out. "Professor McGonagall will kill me if I lose it. What are those things?"

"That is none of your business, little man," George replied haughtily. "Didn't you know, curiosity killed the cat?"

"But it looks dangerous!" the boy squeaked, making him sound even smaller.

"You say that again and I'll microwave your brain!" Fred shouted, going for their other tried-and-true method: when in doubt, start spouting gibberish. Loudly.

The tiny first-year student looked to be on the verge of fainting from fright, but somehow, he managed to turn on his heel and run back to his room to escape from the mad, identical older boys that he was absolutely sure must have been a figment of his overactive imagination. It was a hard-learned lesson into the importance of not eating too many sweets before bed.

His Transfiguration essay was long forgotten. More importantly, the twins had exactly what they needed to really wreak havoc this year. Now, if only they could work out how to turn them on.


End file.
